


Taking a Chance on You

by slamncram (GettheSalt)



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Buddy the Dog, Charlotte Ward - Freeform, Ex-Con Grant Ward, Gen, Redemption, Second Chances, Thomas Ward - Freeform, mentions of Andrew Garner - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-07 12:25:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10360464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GettheSalt/pseuds/slamncram
Summary: The Falcon Café and Bakery does good business. They have a lot of regular customers. It just, well, when you think about it, the place could be marketed as a coping mechanism for people who have seen more than their fair share of shit - and that goes for both the staff and customers.When ex-con Grant Ward needs a job, the best strategy feels like throwing everything at the wall and waiting to see what sticks. Of all the places he applied, he least expected the bakery across the street to call him in for an interview. It might just be the exact thing he was looking for, though.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a few prompts I got on tumblr over the course of a few months. I really wanted to play with the idea of people working and healing together. This will be a series pulling in characters from both the wider MCU and Agents of SHIELD. Grant's story isn't the only one to be told, after all.

“So. You’re an ex-con.”

It wasn’t the best start to a job interview, and Grant knew that, but he didn’t know what else he should’ve expected. It was something that had needed to come up when he was applying for jobs. If he wasn’t upfront about it, they would find out eventually, and then things would really go sideways. It hadn’t done him any favours, and that wasn’t surprising in the least. People didn’t generally want someone with his past on their staff, even if he had a report from a psychologist saying that he was unlikely to relapse and would be an asset at any job.

It hadn’t made things easy, since he got out. He’d gotten lucky that his odd jobs paid, and that his sister was willing – had even needled away at him until he’d accepted – to help foot the bill for his apartment. He had some money saved, but that wasn’t the problem. Eventually, that money would go away, and he wouldn’t be able to pay for his basic needs.

Not his, nor the basic needs of the chocolate lab Andrew had helped him get. Buddy was supposed to be good for therapy, and Grant supposed that, as far as animal companions went, you couldn’t go wrong with a dog. There was a definite upside to having him around. With Buddy in his life, Grant never left lonely.

At least, not for _company_. Human companionship was something he still felt sorely lacking in his life. He could do with having coworkers, at the very least.

And a job would give him something to do, something to focus on, that wasn’t his therapy appointments, or parole check-ins, or twice weekly phone calls with Charlotte and Thomas. Not that he didn’t like talking to his brother and sister, but the fact of the matter was that the content of the calls rarely changed, and it was getting to the point where even Thomas had some concerns. Concerns that he was _voicing_.

That meant it was time to throw everything at the wall and hope to God something stuck.

That was why Grant was sitting in the back room of this bakery, now, trying not to feel out of place. He’d gone through retail, and customer service, through industrial, and manufacturing, and manual labour, and, yes, food service. Right now, he was waiting to hear back from _most_ of those places. When this bakery – the Falcon Café – had called and asked him to come in for an interview, there was no way he was turning it down. No, it wouldn’t be the best pay, but it was right across the street from his apartment building, and Grant liked baking. It had been one of the things he’d taken up since getting out, to occupy himself during his downtime. Baking, cooking, and taking Buddy for long, winding walks where he ended up lost in his own head much of the time. Getting the call to interview here was almost too good to be true, and when the bakery owner, a guy named Sam Wilson, opened by asking _that_ question? Grant couldn’t help but assume this was little more than a courtesy interview.

“Um, yeah. I’ve been out about a year now.”

Sam nodded. He was pretty young, for such a successful entrepreneur. When Grant had walked in for the interview, he had been a little shocked at how many people there were, sitting in the café portion of the place. There were even more perusing the shelves of baked goods and glass cases with gourmet offerings. The position he’d applied for was a full-time cashier, essentially. There had been some mention in the ad about an ability to bake being an asset, but for the most part, it seemed like Grant, should he get the job, would be working on the till and at the front counter.

Which was probably not a position that Sam wanted filled with an ex-con.

“A year, huh? Damn. What’ve you been doing with yourself?”

That hadn’t been a question that Grant was prepared for. That was mostly because, when Sam had opened with the first one, he hadn’t been prepared for much past ‘ _thanks for your time, we’ll call you if we have a position_ ’. Sam taking an interest in him was far from what he’d expected, and Grant told himself that, because of that, it was fair that he hesitated a second.

“Well. I’ve been picking up odd jobs where I can. A friend of mine had a moving company, so I’ve been taking work with him when he needs bodies. Another friend has a shop, and if he had a lot going on, he’d ask me to come in on the weekends to help get jobs finished up.”

Sam nodded, flipping over Grant’s application in his hands, and reading the second page. “So, odd jobs.”

“Yeah.” Grant answered. He was beginning to regret his choice of clothing. It was a job interview, so a nice pair of pants, button up shirt, and tie were a good idea. It was just that, the longer Sam lingered on his past, before just pulling the trigger and ending it, the tighter Grant’s tie felt. “That’s been about it.”

Another nod. Another few seconds ticking by in silence. In contrast to Grant’s professional dress, Sam was wearing a pair of black slacks and a maroon long-sleeve with the sleeves pushed up around his elbows. His dark hair hair and beard were both trimmed and groomed immaculately, and despite the fact that he _must_ work with his hands a lot, there wasn’t a trace of flour on his skin or clothes. The guy had to run a pretty tight ship, or he was out, customer-facing. Either way, he looked put-together, at ease, and in control. This was the kind of guy you wanted to work for.

And also the kind of guy who probably didn’t want to chance being robbed blind by an employee if he could help it. Sam had worked for what he had. It would be ridiculous to expect him to jeopardize it for an ex-con.

“You have a letter of recommendation here, from a Doctor… Andrew Garner.” Sam said, finally, flipping to the page in the application that included Andrew’s letter. Grant had submitted it with his resume. It had just seemed like the smartest thing for him to do. If they were going to reject him, at least they could take the time to consider that he might not be a violent, thieving mess of a person.

That world was long behind him, his gateway to it locked up in a maximum security facility.

Not knowing what to say to fill the silence that followed Sam’s statement, Grant nodded. It stretched on for another minute, the pressure bearing down on him. The back room was pretty far away from the main area of the bakery, but Grant could swear that he heard what sounded like six dozen people carrying on conversation only feet away from the door. That was his nerves, and he knew that, but it didn’t stop him from focusing on it.

He needed a job. He couldn’t keep taking Charlotte’s charity. _Yes_ , she was making a lot of money. She had hit the literary big time, early on, with her first young adult novel, and had kept on cashing in, year after year, novel after novel, building a series that was renowned across the country. They’d even had a copy of the first one in the prison where Grant had been kept. That had to be a sign of how well she was doing, and when Grant had read it, he’d seen a lot of where her inspiration had come from.

He didn’t begrudge her, using their lives, and a few of his bad choices, as a jumping off point for some of the plot points. Writing what you knew was a good way to start doing things. Grant was just happy to see her succeeding. Charlotte, on the other hand, felt a little like she’d taken advantage of what her older brother had gone through, and, as a consequence, _insisted_ that Grant was deserving of at least part of her royalties. At least until he got on his feet.

As much as Grant appreciated it, he knew that he needed to get himself consistent, paying, steady work, so that he didn’t need to live off of checks from his baby sister. It was a point of pride, and he was at the point where he felt like he could get past the ‘ex-con’ thing, if people were willing to take his – and Andrew’s – word for it.

It was just uncertain if Falcon Café was going to be the place that did it. Grant could understand Sam not wanting him here. Grant had noticed he was fairly young, maybe only a little older than Grant, if not the same age as him. He owned and operated a successful bakery and cafe, with a staff that was probably loyal to him, without records of which to speak, who were trained to bake the great creations that were on display in the glass cases up front.

And Grant was an ex-con with a GED and a piece of paper from his therapist that said he was a ‘very low’ risk as an employee.

He wasn’t exactly the kind of person people fought to hire.

“All right, Grant. Can I call you Grant? Forgot to ask when I shook your hand.”

“Grant’s a lot better than Mr. Ward.” He answered, truthfully. Sam smiled, a potential good sign, and set down Grant’s resume, application, and letter of recommendation.

“Grant, then. All right, so, I’ll be honest? Man, when I got your application, I was saying to myself ‘why the _hell_ does an ex-con want to work _here_?’ And I’ll be honest with you. I’m still kind of wondering. I mean, you’re a pretty big dude, and from what you’re telling me, you’ve been doing a lot of the manual labour kind of thing. That’s got to be an industry where people don’t look at your kind of history and wonder about it. So, I gotta know. Why here?”

It was a fair question, and Sam had every right to pose it. Grant _didn’t_ look like what people pictured when they thought of a baker, and Sam knew his business better than Grant. There was a seriously good chance that, should his history get out, he would be something of a sore spot on the staff, for both coworkers and customers.

“I’m going to be honest with you, because lying hasn’t gotten me anywhere good in the past.” Grant started, finally, after taking a few seconds to get his thoughts together. “I need money, and, yeah, that’s kind of why I’ve been throwing my resume at any place that’ll take it. Since I got out, I’ve been living off my odd jobs, and my sister’s help, and I don’t want to keep doing that. Getting out of prison meant that I really could go after a fresh start, and relying on other people to get me there isn’t doing anyone any favours. I’ve put out… A _lot_ of applications. You’re the first who have called back in a week, and I wasn’t going to turn you down, if you were willing to consider me.

I know I’m not… I’m not trained in baking, and I’m not a graduate of any kind of cake decorating class. But, I do like to do it, and since getting out, I’ve been doing it a lot more. It’s a good time-passing hobby. And something like this seems pretty steady, in terms of pace. It would keep me busy, and help with the, uh…”

Grant pointed at the pile of sheets that Sam had set down. “The ‘melancholy’ that Dr. Garner mentions in there. He’s right. I do need something to do, something to give me focus and routine, but it’s best if it’s something I enjoy. Not that I don’t enjoy helping with moving and repairs, but I feel like here I could actually begin to learn new things, and take new steps forward.”

Sam had been quiet through Grant’s explanation, only nodding here and there as Grant spoke. He was quiet and respectful of what Grant had to say, not speaking over him, nor making any move or sound to interrupt or bring him to a halt. It was something that Grant appreciated immensely, but he knew that to say it might sound odd.

“I like your honesty. I like that you just came right out and said ‘ _I need money_ ’. I do a lot of interviews, Grant, and I get a lot of people in here who have no experience and who think that this will just be a cushy job where they sit around and sell muffins here and there, and they’ll get paid at the end of the day and they’ll have barely done any work. That’s not how it is, and that’s not the kind of people I hire. I hire people who are expecting to _work_ for the money that they take home, who come in here every day ready to do the job, to make the customers smile, to keep up a good, positive vibe for everyone else who works here. I need people who are going to carry their weight and have a damn good reason to do it. Not because they need drinking money.”

Grant nodded, hesitant to do much more. Sam was with something, here, an important point to him, and Grant interrupting could shatter the flimsy bridge he felt they may be building.

“Now, you’re saying you bake as a hobby. You know, if you work here, that hobby is going to become your job, and I’m going to need you to step up and learn good and fast, right?”

Hardly daring to believe what it sounded like Sam was saying, Grant nodded. “Of course. Wouldn’t expect otherwise.”

Sam nodded, a hint of a smile on his face. “Dr. Garner says that you’re a hard worker, loyal, and becoming more openly honest as you put distance between yourself and the prison. You’d say that’s a good description of you?”

“I think so, yeah. I didn’t always apply it in the best way in the past, but yeah.”

“You planning on relapsing on that any time, Grant?”

The question was direct, no beating around the bush. Grant liked that.

“No. The whole reason I ended up where I was was because I had a really… Really bad mentor, during a bad time in my life. I didn’t really think about the right and wrong a whole lot, so long as it kept him happy and getting what he wanted. I think about right and wrong now. A lot.”

“I would think so, considering where you’ve been. You’ve seen the shit that comes from not thinking about that kind of thing. All right...” Sam picked up the sheets again, flipping through them before he looked over the top at Grant, and smiled.

“Andrew’s an old friend of mine. He said that you would probably put in an application, and I should at least give you a shot and interview you. It’s not like you’re the first guy with a record that I’ve had in this place.”

To say that Grant was taken aback would have been an understatement, and he knew that it was showing on his face by the way Sam laughed.

“I’m sorry. Yeah, I should have been honest with you at the jump, but I wanted to see how you would be with me before I let you in on the truth.” Sam reached across the desk, hand outstretched for Grant’s once more. Grant took it, shaking firmly, still a bit dazed.

“You knew…?”

“Oh, yeah, I knew. Thing about this place… Grant, I don’t know if you read up on me, but I’m a vet. I got honorable discharge a while back. Long while back. Decided to do something constructive with my newfound free time, and I started this place.” He smiled, crossing his arms and leaning forward on the desk while he spoke. “Everyone who works here, almost all of them? We’ve all got some kind of baggage. Something that keeps us up at night, or makes us look over our shoulders, or wonder what people see when they look at us. It’s not always slow-paced, no. But you said you took up baking as a hobby, and you’d be surprised how many other people have done that kind of thing.

“I want to bring you on board, Grant. You seem like you’re genuinely trying to make some kind of turnaround from what you did before. No, I don’t know the details. Andrew didn’t share them, and you don’t have to give me the nitty-gritty. Once we’ve worked together a while, if you want to grab a scone and sit back here with me and tell me your shit, I will listen. I’ve gotten good at that. But I’m going to take you on this impression, and on Doc Garner’s word, and take a chance on you.”

“That’s… I mean, thank you, really, thank you.”

Grant felt a little like he might be dreaming. He’d walked in here, this afternoon, mostly expecting this to be a bust. A place like this couldn’t possibly be the kind of place that was going to hire an ex-con. Now, he was sitting across from the grinning owner, with a job offer in front of him, and the assurance that Sam Wilson didn’t think he was making a mistake, and he was going to give Grant the chance to prove to him that the case was truly that.

“Hey, just don’t give me a reason to ruin my perfect run of being right about people.” Sam said, then stood up. He left Grant’s papers on the desk as he walked around it, waving for Grant to follow him. “I’m going to have to get you to come in tomorrow and do some paperwork. You know, legal stuff. You probably have some people you need to inform too, right?”

“Yeah, I need to tell my parole officer, and Andrew. Probably my sister.” Grant answered, mentally making a list, knowing he would need to prepare an argument for Charlotte. She might not give up helping him so easily.

“Great. So, tomorrow morning, why don’t you come by around 10, and we can get some paperwork done? For now, how about I introduce you to some of the people you’ll be working with.”

Sam didn’t wait for Grant’s agreement or otherwise, leading him down a short hallway and into a bustling kitchen.

“Hey, guys.”

Even if they were in the middle of working on something – and most of the staff was – they gave their attention to Sam when they heard his voice. That wasn’t a fear thing. Grant had seen how people reacted when it was a fear thing. That was respect, plain and simple. Most of them kept working, but it was obvious that they were listening to the boss. In some cases, they were watching him, even while their hands kept moving.

“This is Grant Ward. He’ll be joining the team later this week, so… You all know the drill.”

A guy definitely older than Grant, whose brown hair was threaded with grey, spoke up. “Welcome to the team. I’m Bruce.”

“Scott.” Chimed in the guy next to him who was wearing a hair net over his dark brown hair.

“You and Scott have something in common.” Sam said, quietly, before raising his voice and pointing. “Then that’s Will, and Lincoln. Elena, Clint and the girl out front was Callie, and the guys were Donnie and Seth.”

Will, Lincoln, Elena and Clint all waved, a few of them welcoming him to the team. It was a full kitchen, and obviously a tight-knit group. That was daunting, to say the least, but Grant wasn’t going to let that get to him. He had the opportunity to actually do something with his life, now, and to turn around the bad choices and paths he’d followed. He wasn’t letting something like the fact that he would have to build relationships and trust, here, that wasn’t founded on someone who held all the power forcing them to get along, stop him.

“The people who aren’t in today are Mike and Raina. Mike had an appointment for his kid, Ace. You’ll probably get to know him, kid’s in here a lot. Today’s Raina’s regular day off. You’ll meet both of them tomorrow.” Sam waved for Grant to follow him again, and they made their way back into the back room.

Grant had to admit, to himself, at least, that things felt significantly less pressing, now. He had a job, and it was at a _bakery_ , which, comparatively, was pretty low stress, for him. He was going to get to move on with his life, and start putting some real distance between himself and everything that he’d done under John Garrett’s tutelage.

All in all, the afternoon had gone better than he had expected.

“So, tomorrow morning, 10. Bring your ID, and be ready to fill out a _ton_ of forms. Oh, and, uh… Void check? You got something like that?”

Grant jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “I can go to the bank now, get a direct deposit form.”

Sam grinned. “Even better. That’s good… All right, that said.” He held his hand out again, and this time when Grant took it, he felt much sturdier on his own two feet, and much more sure of where the rest of his week was going. That was good. That was really good.

“Like I said, Grant, I want to take the chance on you. Don’t prove me wrong, and ruin my perfect streak.”

With a grin, Grant shook his head. He had a good feeling about this, and, for the first time in a long time, a good feeling about himself. “I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.”


End file.
